


i love you (and i'll love you and i won't stop loving you)

by halogensleep



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anaesthesia - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Love, Love Confessions, Protective Becky, Protective Charlotte, This might become a 40 chapter story or stay a one shot who knows, Unrequited Love, Useless Lesbians, Wisdom Teeth, lesbian love, she protec she attac drunk becky know the craic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halogensleep/pseuds/halogensleep
Summary: Becky needed her wisdom teeth removed. Of course, Charlotte was the logical person to call and come stay with. They were best friends, colleagues, partners in crime--well, platonically speaking of course--Charlotte had to remind herself of that with alarming frequency.After the anaesthesia starts to wear off, Charlotte finds it more and more difficult to avoid confronting her true feelings.SMALL ONE-SHOT/EASY AND GENTLE ON THE HEART AND FUNNY BONE





	i love you (and i'll love you and i won't stop loving you)

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _  
> [Accompanying Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTEKg1Ly0zY)  
>  _  
> 
> 
> Again, please review! So long as I'm getting feedback, I'm going to keep writing for this tiny fortress fandom! :)

_ cause even in the dark _

_ i feel your resistance  _

_ you can see can see my heart burning in the distance  _

_ baby, baby, baby  _

_i'm your man_  


 

“God. God is just the word we use to describe the universe experiencing itself.” There was so much anaesthetic and morphine rattling around her system that it started to spill out of her mouth in the form of words. “And that pain you get in your shins when you run too hard in cheap shoes? That is the Devil. That is the Devil trying to rip your soul out of your kneecaps...” Becky mumbled and slurred.

“That’s nice.” Charlotte pulled out of the junction and on to the interstate, not sure of what else to say.

Becky closed her eyes and didn’t know how to open them again. Her chin curled forward until the seatbelt cradled her body, lips wriggling against one another as another inintelligible ramble tickled the inside of her mouth. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. She reached over and adjusted the blanket that was coming dangerously close to slipping off of her best friend, because god forbid there was a slight chill lingering outside somewhere beneath the blazing heat of the Carolinas in June and Becky was the poor sucker who caught it.

“We think we eat the pineapples, but really, it’s the pineapple eating us,” Becky quietly whimpered beneath her breath.

“I won’t let a pineapple eat you,” Charlotte reassured.

“You’re a good woman.”

“Well, I try to be.”

“Why is it so dark?”

“Your eyes are closed, Becky.”

“But what if they aren’t?”

“What are you even—” Charlotte sighed and closed her eyes. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when there’s a reason to wake you up.”

The sun was high in the sky and dazzling the road, and the highway was inundated with people. The traffic pulled slowly, chugging for a bit, then stalling to a halt. It would be like this for at least seven miles if the woman on the radio announcing the collision ahead was to be trusted. Charlotte sighed and glanced at Becky, who now occupied the time by trying to nibble her seat belt.

“Don’t do that,” Charlotte reached over and pulled it off the bottom of her chin. “You’re going to hurt your stitches or lose a tooth.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Becky opened her bleary, unfocused eyes and narrowed them accusingly. “Feeding my teeth to the chickens because you didn’t remember to buy the corn, I know what the craic is.”

“If only they had left at least one wisdom tooth in your mouth so we could do this again sometime.” The headache was already on the brink of itself. Becky was foreign, was now single since things went south with the last boyfriend some months ago, and was now also decidedly Charlotte’s responsibility when it came to medical emergencies. “Hey! No—” Charlotte slapped her hand away as it reached for the steering wheel. “Bad Becky!” The headache bloomed.

The pout was pearl-eyed and devastated by the scolding. She watched Becky fling herself backward and tuck herself against the window. Charlotte felt her heartstrings pull a little bit.

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry for snapping.” Charlotte placated and got the car a few metres forward before traffic halted again. “Just, can you go to sleep? You’ll feel better.”

“I’ll miss you too much.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said awkwardly, blinking a bit too hard.

She didn’t have a crush on her best friend. That would be… impossible for many reasons. Good reasons. They were best friends, they were straight, they were colleagues, and they were in a storyline feud. All incredibly good, important reasons that she had to run through with alarming regularity to remind herself that she did not have a crush on Becky. It just tickled her heart getting to be the one who took care of her, who was the first port of call when dental surgery and a place to stay afterwards needed to be arranged, that was all.

Who didn’t have a best friend that they loved like that? It was normal.

“I miss you and you’re right here.” Becky grumbled, a sigh falling out of her mouth. Charlotte watched her brown eyes flutter a few times, focusing on nothing in particular. The Irish woman would remember none of this. “Goodness, you really are my favourite person,” she slurred.

“You’re my favourite person too,” Charlotte simpered as the traffic started to slowly chug. “The best person I know.”

“Who is?” Becky forgot.

“You.”

“I’m what?”

“Go to sleep.” Charlotte petted her long tangerine hair and reached the point of exasperated pleading. “You won’t miss me I’ll be right here. Just, sleep. Please.”

 

…

 

“Becks?” Charlotte whispered and shook her arm softly.

Firstly the human goldfish wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop being so adorably irritating and difficult. Now, she would not wake up for all the chirping birds in the world. Charlotte didn’t want to shake too hard or disturb her too violently, and so she was left sat on the driveway with her best friend curled up asleep on her shoulder using an old, unwashed hoodie as a pillow. Charlotte gave a deep, troubled sigh and allowed the troublemaker to continue snoring against her throat.

After a minute or so, she became glaringly aware of how weird it was.

She slipped a hand under Becky’s jaw and carefully guided her back to the passenger seat headrest. Still, the Irish woman didn’t wake, which was slightly impressive. Charlotte got out of the car and trudged around the hood, opening the passenger door and simultaneously catching the warm body that slumped out.

“We’re done driving?” Becky hmph’d, her voice croaking with sleep. She managed to crack an eye open and glance around, wincing into the brightness of the summer afternoon. She closed them again. “Where are we?” She swallowed.

“My house, honey.” Charlotte slipped underneath her armpits and propped her up on the seat. “Twenty feet to the front door, give or take. I think you can tackle it.” She nodded decisively.

“Look what I found…” Becky mumbled and grabbed the black hoodie beside her. She held it up, turning it in her hands with an impressed expression. “Who would leave this lying around? It’s so soft—” She clutched it to her cheek.

“It’s mine.”

“I found it first, get your own hoodie.”

“Okay well why don’t you keep a hold of it for now and we’ll get into the semantics tomorrow…” Charlotte rolled her eyes and stood aside. “Come on, let’s get you inside before the neighbours see.”

“Okay.” She seemed slightly reluctant, distrusting maybe, but she eventually shuffled forward out of the car door. “But you can’t have my top.” She glared and hid the hoodie away.

“No one is fighting you for that hoodie, I promise you.” The insanity of this was not as amusing as the Youtube videos of post-wisdom teeth removal had led her to believe it would be. “Do you need a hand?”

Becky tried to stand up and promptly fell forward.

“Alright,” Charlotte gritted her teeth and hoisted her best friend back to her wobbling legs. “Okay, one step at a time.”

Two soft, drunk hands found her biceps and shoulders. It was warm out, so warm that she was wearing a vest and nothing else. Becky traced her fingers along the bare contours of the muscles and giggled to herself a little bit as she fell forward into a barely-breathing chest. Charlotte just swallowed and blew the tickly, bright ginger flyaways that grazed her chin and lips, arms stuck around the small of her slack spine.

“You’re so strong,” Becky hummed and squeezed. “You’re like a superhero.”

“Thanks for that.” Charlotte cleared her throat and grew stiff.

“I could whip you in a fight though.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Charlotte nodded quietly, entertaining the goldfish.

“Shall we go in?”

“You need to walk for that to happen.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re not that strong after all…” Becky patted her thick shoulders.

The Irish woman was thrown over her shoulder like a sack of bricks, like an inanimate object, like a thing that needed to be hoisted and transported from one location to the other. It definitely wasn’t because she felt challenged to show off, or because deep down she wanted to prove that she was strong enough to give any ex-boyfriend a run for his money. No, definitely none of that.

That, again, would be too close to having a crush on her best friend. Charlotte laughed and shook her head at the mere thought as she fireman carried Becky to the front door, juggling her on top of her shoulders with one hand as she fumbled for her keys with the other. What a silly idea.

“You’re so pretty... like a barbie doll but with nice big shoulders,” Becky hummed from over her back and played softly with her long blonde hair.

Charlotte bristled and twitched her head away. “Stop that.”

 

…

 

When she left her, Becky was asleep on the sofa with that tattered, scruffy hoodie tucked inside her fingers like a comfort blanket. Her knees were curled up, nose wiggling occasionally, slim little spine rising emphatically with each sleepy hmph. Of course these were perfectly normal things to notice and pick up on, Charlotte didn’t read too much into herself.

By the time she was showered, sort of dressed, and bounding down the stairs to make broth that she already knew Becky would turn her nose up at, she became aware that the sleeper had arisen from the sound of the coffee table and furniture being fought with.

“Becks?” She tentatively inched the door open.

She found her wobbling between the sofa and the coffee table, jeans around her ankles, expression screwed up with frustration, apparently trying to take her pants off.

“Should I ask questions at this point?” Charlotte surveyed the scene.

“Jesus it’s warm, the sun is spitting rocks out there!” Becky struggled with a trying expression, a thin sheen already coating her brow from the heat.

“I don’t know if you’re still high or if you’re just being Irish,” Charlotte eyed her cautiously with narrowed eyes.

“The latter.” Becky yawned and wobbled. “Also, maybe a bit of the former. I’m getting a headache, it’s making it difficult to think.”

“Jesus, just sit down already. The things I do for you,” she muttered to herself and walked over to help.

The jeans were yanked off and two slim bare legs curled back up again on the sofa, much cooler this time. Becky nested and clutched the hoodie. She was definitely a little high still but reality was coming back to her in bits and pieces, she wasn’t talking about pineapples eating her for a start and Charlotte would accept that as progress.

Charlotte slumped down on the other side of the sofa and clicked the television on.

“What are we watching?” Becky mumbled, eyes half closed.

“Something easy and terrible,” Charlotte replied. “Maybe a Lifetime movie. We’ll see what the afternoon brings.”

“Can we watch the Anna Nicole Smith one?” Becky perked slightly.

“We watched that one twice on the tour bus in Europe less than a month ago.”

“I know, but I have a thing for tall blondes.” The flat of her foot nudged Charlotte’s hip.

“Mmhm, sure.” Charlotte playfully shoved her back. “Are you planning on putting pyjama pants on by the way?”

“Not particularly, no.”

Charlotte blinked. “Okay.”

“Are those men’s boxers?” Becky glanced at the shorts Charlotte was wearing with a confused expression.

Charlotte furrowed her brow. “No,” she scoffed.

“Are you sure?”

“Becky, these are not a man’s pair of boxers.”

A man’s pair of boxers implied that a man before her had owned them, and so technically she wasn’t lying. She wasn’t about to get into the minutia of it with Becky. It was stiflingly warm, that sort of smoggy heat that was wet and thick on her shoulders and back no matter how high the air conditioning was cranked — which wasn’t very far thanks to the broken air filter. Charlotte leaned back into the sofa and put her legs up on the coffee table, a pair of white Calvin Klein’s rolled down her hips, an undone plaid shirt pushed up her forearms, a scowl on her cheeks as a sticky, hot body switched positions and nuzzled against her.

“Dude!” Charlotte lightly complained. “You feel like a radiator, you had all that space over there!”

“Now I have more,” Becky propped her head on Charlotte’s bare thigh and stretched her legs out. “My face hurts,” she mumbled quietly.

“It’s supposed to, you just had four teeth out.”

“Thank you for keeping me and looking after me.”

“You’re not a Chia Pet, you’re my best friend. You can come visit anytime you want.” Charlotte tried to seem unbothered, but her heart was throbbing in her chest, her pulse was quickening, her mind was speeding with other ideas. She shifted uncomfortably and slipped an arm over the boiling hot creature in her lap. “You can always come and stay, always.”

“You’re my favourite person,” Becky yawned and tucked herself around Charlotte’s thigh, pulling the lazy arm a bit tighter around her waist.

“Ditto,” Charlotte found herself saying the word so quietly, so full of fondness.

“We’re like a married couple, aren’t we?” Becky murmured with a smile.

“How would you know?” Charlotte chuckled. “Out of the two of us, I think I’m the authority on that.”

“Then what is it like to be married to someone?”

“At first it’s mad and passionate, it’s bliss, it’s the denial of reality.” Charlotte thought about it, and a sharp pain niggled her in places that had no business being niggled. “It’s this promise that you’re going to love a broken and deeply faulted person despite all the ways they’re going to hurt and disappoint you, it’s knowing you’re going to try and love them regardless because that’s what your mom did, and your grandma, and her grandma, and now the responsibility has been passed down to you to be a rehabilitation centre for a broken man who could never be enough to deserve you even on his best day—”

“Love?” Becky’s voice tinged with concern. She rolled over and peered at Charlotte with the most gentle, tenderly worried, loving expression. “Where did you just go?” Her voice was quiet and curious, a bit sad maybe.

“Nowhere,” Charlotte lied and made herself forget.

“Well, if I was your husband, I would never hurt you.” Charlotte believed her when she said it and that was the worst, most confusing part. “I would be a lovely husband, I think.” Becky tiredly scratched her chin.

“Oh yeah?” Charlotte laughed. “Well, I’ll bear you in mind when a position opens.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“You’re so beautiful,” Becky whispered and blinked slowly, a tiny furrow forming on her head as if a veil had been lifted and she could do nothing but surrender to how deeply she meant it.

Charlotte inhaled and felt like she couldn’t breathe. Those big brown eyes blinked slowly and didn’t move, they drank her in, stole her soul, pulled her deeper into an abyss of confusing feelings that she would be able to pull herself out of again. 

“You’re beautiful too,” Charlotte shifted her eyes, laughing a bit. “And also very, very high.”

There was a comfort and safety that Becky brought to her life, a love that was perfect and whole. Before Becky, there were parts of herself she had learned to hide away, learned to keep private and invisible for the benefit of others. The way she cried too often, the way she felt too much, the way she couldn’t let herself be the butt of the joke, the way she couldn’t and would never be okay with the casual substance use that everyone in her life seemed to dabble with as a means of escape, as maybe just a means to an end. Charlotte had learned to grit her teeth and hide those things so deep within herself that she almost forgot they had existed.

Becky switched on the light, found them, dusted them off and proudly put them on the walls so they couldn’t be lost again. Becky loved her wholly, loved her in her sovereignty, loved her until those faults were no longer faults but rather principles, foundations, bedrocks of herself that were… acceptable, worthy of love, even.

It only made the thought of overstepping the mark and losing Becky all the more terrifying.

They were best friends, and that would have to be enough.

“I’m going to make you broth,” Charlotte decided she needed to escape to the kitchen, immediately.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

“You can’t eat solids for twenty-four hours—”

“No, I don’t mean that.” Becky clutched the arm around her waist tighter. “I mean I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh.”

 

…

 

“Becky?”

“Yes?”

“Did you.” Charlotte stopped, unsure of how to ask the question tactfully. “Did you wet yourself or something?”

“Why the fuck would I have wet myself?” The pillows were shot up from immediately, the bleary-eyed troublemaker having none of it.

“Because it’s two-thirty in the morning and you are in my bed.” Charlotte blinked and stared into the pitch-black darkness where Becky’s weight shifted around on the other side. “If you pissed yourself in the guest bed just please tell me you put the sheets in the washer—”

“Why would that be your first thought? What about me gives off the impression that I’m a bedwetter?”

“I’m not sure.” Charlotte was stumped for an answer. “You’re on a lot of medicine.”

“Oh give over, I didn’t piss myself. The pain medication gave me a night terror, and it’s off-limits, you can’t joke about it.” Becky slumped back down and plumped her pillow, defeated and still a little weird from the medicine. “I wanted to be near you so that—” The words were lost to an embarrassed sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Come here,” Charlotte pulled on her wrist and felt her heart soften. “Nothing is going to hurt you, I’m here. I’ve got your back. I'm your man.”

There had been cuddles in bed before, the drunk sort, the friendly sort, the comforting sort after breakups and upsets. They were rare and fraught with difficult feelings for Charlotte whenever they happened. She tried not to think about that, instead she inched across the sheets and tucked herself around the troublemaker. Becky fit so perfectly in her arms, the realisation was impossible to avoid. Charlotte just sighed and accepted her sore heart.  


“All pineapples will be shot on sight, babe.” She hmph’d and closed her eyes.

There was an awkward sigh.

“Turn over,” Becky demanded tiredly, a little grumpiness in her voice.

The positions were switched, their bodies jostled until Charlotte was facing the other way with a body melting into the tiny nooks and crannies of her own. A slim, freckled forearm tucked around her belly and held on for dear life, a pair of hips settled into her ass, a soft Irish nose buried into the back of her neck and exhaled warmth. Charlotte stiffened and blinked. It had caught her off-guard.  


“What are we doing?” Charlotte cleared her throat.

“Going to sleep.”

“I mean… this.” She patted the warm hand clutching her belly. “Was your night terror about me?”

Becky hesitated and became uncomfortable. “We don’t need to talk about that," she muttered.  


“I think we do—” Charlotte became suspicious that it was something to do with her, specifically, her being in danger if the protective hold she was grasped in was any indication. “What did you dream of?” She squeezed her slender fingers.

“Him hitting you,” it was said with such sadness, such grief. Charlotte stiffened with memories of things she had long since left in the past. “You’re not the person to talk to about it. That is your trauma, not mine. I don’t want to insert myself there. I shouldn't have mentioned it, but you asked. I’m sorry—” The arms around her were so fiercly protective that they became suffocating.  


“It’s alright, it's okay, I'm okay. I'm safe, you're here.” Charlotte hushed the slightly over-medicated ball of worry behind her. “So, you had a bad dream that someone was hurting me and got in my bed because…”

“I needed to be able to open my eyes and check on you. I needed to know you were right here where I could protect you,” Becky whispered, tired and embarrassed. “I know that you’re  tough enough to protect yourself but I wanted to be able to lend a hand if push came to shove.” It earned a little laugh.

Charlotte rubbed her mouth and snuggled herself backwards, smiling and comforted by the fact her emotions were invisible and safe in the darkness. Becky held her closer, fiercer, only growing all the more protective. It was then Charlotte noticed the black, worn hoodie that was pushed up to her elbows. Apparently Becky had felt the need not only to steal it, but to go sleep in it for good measure.  


“You’re still high,” Charlotte murmured and rubbed her forearm. “Go to sleep before you destroy me with how adorable you are, little cutie.”

“Charlotte I love you more than I can bare, more than I can cope with.” There was a deep, troubled sigh. “It’s so easy keeping it bottled up when I’m a hundred-percent but whenever I look at you there’s this gaping ugly hole in my chest and I can’t keep it quiet right now. Please, don’t make fun of me.”

“Oh?” Charlotte gulped. “An ugly hole in your chest?”

“The place where logic and reason is supposed to be, I think.” Fingers softly slipped over her ribs in retreat, another deep sigh thumping her spine. “Because, well, you’re my best friend… but sometimes I love you a bit more than that… and it’s killing me slowly.” Becky started to move away, mortified and embarrassed.

Charlotte grabbed her fleeing wrist and pulled it back fiercely.

“Tell me you mean it, tell me this isn’t the painkillers.”

“What?”

“Tell me you really feel that way,” Charlotte became hopeful, and it was a seductive feeling to give into. “I need to know if you’re being serious.”

“Could we still be friends if I was?” Becky’s voice tilted with worry.

“If I’m going to go out on a limb tomorrow when you remember none of this and admit all of these stupid feelings I have for you too that aren’t going away any time soon… well, I need to know there’s a chance you might love me back.” Charlotte licked her lips and grew brave. "Because I love you, and it's been as more than just a friend since before we were even friends, I think."  


“Please take a blind leap of faith.” Becky's voice was soft and pleading, full of frightened and tentative love. “I would never let you down, even on my worst day.”

“Okay,” Charlotte slipped around until they were holding one another. She sighed and blinked, trying to be in control of herself. “Go to sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning and figure it out.”

“I love you, Charlotte.” Becky pressed forward with fidgeting lips.  


Charlotte dodged the kiss. She pulled her head backwards, instinctively. What she would give to kiss her, what she would give to put that troublemaker on her back and be the blanket that kept her warm long into the early morning hours. But, not like this. Not while she was dosed up on painkillers and so gentle in her vulnerability because of it. Becky looked horrified for a moment but Charlotte pulled her close, pulled her to her chest, slipped her arm around and held the back of her neck softly.

"I can't kiss you tonight, not while you're like this, but maybe tomorrow."

"I love you," Becky mumbled into her throat. "I can wait until tomorrow."

“I love you too.” She surrendered herself to the words, handed herself over to the possibility this might be her only chance to say it the way she really meant. “I love you and I’ll love you and I won’t stop loving you, so just go to sleep and let me take care of it.”

“I’ll be here in the morning.” The troublemaker promised, her hand settling on Charlotte’s hip protectively.

Charlotte smiled and kissed her forehead. There was something unfeared about the unknown of tomorrow, mainly because it wasn’t unknown at all. She knew, wholeheartedly, that Becky would love her back.

It was what she did best.

 

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